So, I’m awake. Stupid phone acting up. Can’t sleep. I just want to fling the damned device at the wall. But I can’t…
You see, I’m not upset at the phone really. I’m upset because I miss him. This is the closest to him I could possibly be. The only way to cross the bridge between us.
Here, as I lay awake on my bed, all I can think about is him. What if he’s trying to reach me? I feel horrible. Empty. I’ve grown used to him it seems.
Old conversations run through my mind, and I crave more. His name pops up in my head repeatedly. Different fonts, sizes and colours dancing around teasingly. Frustrating me even more.
I close my eyes and imagine those arms around me. The arms he gave to me. It helps sometimes. Not so much tonight. I whisper his name. Say it a bit louder. Hoping. Wishing. Lost.
Reaching for my phone again, I will it to function. I’ve never been a fan of gadgets. This would be another reason why. This torture was unwarranted. Why wouldn’t it let me be happy? Why couldn’t it understand?
I give in. Let my imagination wander. Create my own blissful world, where I could be with him. Remembering to put up the boundaries that keep us apart. I could be with him, but not completely. Not really.